The Makery

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The secret world of crepes always intrigued me. Imagining two twenty-year-olds finally living on their own with piercing and tattoos as a middle finger to their parents was always associated with crepes for me. Let's be real when I continue, I imagine myself as the broke-Miley-Cyrus. The girl would have her hair tied up and a red bow popping out while mixing the batter only to have her partner kiss her while she worked still in their sleep wear.
The day my fridge seemed unappealing to me, I decided to live a little in Paris. I made crepes! More like two, before the other ones fell apart. With my hair tied up, tank top from some nights ago, I fixed my booty shorts one last time before I snagged all the ingredients. No recipe but all the ingredient proportions danced with each other nicely.
  A splash of water
enough to subtle the riot
the battle between milk and flour
lost in love with arguments

But both so naughty
Seeing others on the side
an egg for one of them to soothe
but fit so perfectly together
(Reading Corporate Bakery at the Mercury Cafe tonight)
 After the first one finished, I tried to fix my mistakes by taking a look at the recipe again. Adding first water, then milk, then flour, I realized it was too late. In writing, it's a completely different story which is why my literary illusion worked while in reality, a crepe can't always be made from inspiration or the soul. Or a bowl. 
My book title went live today. Alice in Reality now is worth more than the paper I printed it on. We still have a while to go but it's something. In the book, a topic I tackle and tackled in real life is/was depression. I bring it up because the more stressed I got, the closer I was getting to self harm again. Like writing, I realized I needed to edit some things. So, I sat and gave myself a second look and realized I was only to be proud. Nothing is dependent off of me even though I'm pushing myself faster than they work. I have all the steps I need.
With the second look I gave myself, I was able to love my writing again. I'm reworking old poems and typing new ones not only for readings but for literary journals. Talk about a turn around. This is where I want to direct my profession at some point. I plan on writing some mental books soon but until then, I want to help a few people for the sake of it.
All we need is a second look. Before the last cut, we just need to stop for a second and realize we all mean so much and are worth so much. We just need to love ourselves because no one can take your spot unless it's for saving you, you beauty you.
"Welcome to the Makery! The perfect little bakery to soothe those uneasy minds. Let me make you turn around to work again. I'll make you love again for quiet the price. Welcome to my imagination and you are my fuel. Only warning there is. Now come in, relax, and let me tell you what holds you back. Bring your friends back to the Makery."

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